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Betrayed at Forty Below Novel Cover

Betrayed at Forty Below

Trapped in a lethal blizzard, Peyton wakes to find her fiancé, Melvin, has given her sub-zero sleeping bag to his colleague, Sally. Left with only a thin quilt in minus forty-degree weather, Peyton confronts him, only to be dismissed as dramatic. Realizing her life is being sacrificed for another's comfort, she stops arguing. Instead of begging for warmth, she uses a satellite phone to contact her brother, the leader of an elite rescue team, to save her alone.
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Chapter 3

The others piled on.

"Yeah, sure. Captain Powell's your brother? Please. No way a guy like that's got a spoiled little sister."

Then Melvin slapped me—loud and sharp. The crack echoed through the tent.

"You're a disgrace," he snapped. "Lying like that—don't you feel pathetic? Say one more word, and I'll toss you into the snow myself."

He yanked my arm like he was about to drag me outside.

I knew they weren't backing down—they wanted me to lead. Fine. I stopped trying to explain and made one last ask.

"I'll go. But Sally needs to give back MY sleeping bag. I've got frostbite—I can't even move right—"

"Shut up," Melvin snapped. "You've got frostbite, which means you're dead weight. Why waste the best gear on you? Sally's new to this—she needs it more."

The way he said it, like it made perfect sense, hit colder than the wind.

I never thought the guy who once swore he'd protect me would trade my life for hers without blinking.

Ever since Sally parachuted into their department, Melvin changed. It was nonstop—"Sally this, Sally that."

I thought he was just being nice to the new hire. I mean, after everything we'd been through—after getting engaged—there's no way he'd toss all that for some girl faking the whole helpless-and-sweet act.

Yeah. I was stupid.

When I didn't move, Melvin stormed over and yanked me up.

"Don't think I won't lay hands on you. Get up and lead."

***

Left with no choice, I grabbed a trekking pole and forced my numb body to stand.

Sally strolled over, all fake concern. "Let me help you, Peyton."

Before I could shut her down, her hand clamped straight onto my injured ankle—hard.

The pain shot through me. My eyes burned with tears.

I shoved her off. "Get off me!"

She let out a dramatic yelp and dropped into the snow, eyes going red.

Melvin didn't even blink—he shoved me hard, nearly knocking me over. "What's wrong with you? She was helping! Why'd you push her?"

Sally jumped in, all sweet and sly. "Don't blame Peyton, Melvin. She's probably just upset I used her sleeping bag. I don't mind the drama. As long as she gets us down safe, that's what matters."

That only fired Melvin up more. He stormed over and slapped me—twice. Hard.

"Don't think you can push Sally around just because she's nice. Try laying a hand on her again and see what happens."

My ears rang. My cheek burned, already swelling.

But even that didn't hurt as much as the crack inside me.

I gave up trying to explain. Didn't even want to anymore.

"I can walk. I don't need her help."

Sally gave me that fake-innocent look. "It's not that you don't need help—you're just waiting to sneak off, aren't you?"

Melvin shot me a glare. "Don't try anything, Peyton. Slow us down, and you'll answer to me."

Then he turned to one of the guys. "Wayne, watch her. If she pulls anything, tie her up. With this blizzard, if something happens, we can just blame it all on the weather."

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